Life Interrupted My Daily Dance Routine, Reminding Me We Can’t Control Everything
Dancing is definitely dangerous when you can’t control your bowel movements
I wrote an essay last month about my intention to ditch yoga and substitute with dancing to keep fit.
Well, it was also a desire to lose inches round my middle so I could fit into my jeans again. Now I’m a widow living on a budget tighter than my clothes, buying larger size denims is out of the question.
Since I love listening to music, to dance as a form of exercise would kill two birds with one stone. Or I could lose one stone with no feathered creatures having to die in the process.
Bebe Nicholson had asked that I keep everyone posted on my progress, so here is my report back.
First of all, I ditched the Dance channel on DMX, a free music channel that’s part of my satellite TV subscription. The music was meh, not the pulsating rhythms I remembered from my youth in the 70s.
As there’s no Disco on offer, I switched to the Reggae channel. Perfect! It transported me to a Jamaican (or South African)* beach for 20 minutes. Quite a stretch of the imagination dancing on a carpeted floor, but it worked and certainly stretched my muscles.
